I wonder why they brought me here, leaving me to rot in this odious jail
My biggest crime: wanting justice and basic human rights
India’s freedom was stolen, while the British rule prevails

And then, through the bars, I see my broken child

His face painted the colors of the flag: orange, green, and white
His beautiful eyes already hardened by what he has seen
But it is too late to fix him, mend him, make him right
I want to teach him, help him, give him someone on whom he can lean

But in his eyes, I can see something tough, callous, and mean
I watch as it lurks in his soul, consuming his once pure heart
It’s something sharp, powerful, and dangerous — it’s something unseen
He’s fighting to get the darkness out, but he doesn’t know where to start

I want to comfort him, hold him, whisper sweet words in his ear
Tell him people are peaceful not belligerent, that our country will be free soon
But even if I could reach him from jail, I have nothing to say he wants to hear
All he would be able to notice is my face coated in metallic maroon

And then, through the bars, I see my broken child
My broken child fixing a broken country
Taking a broken country and making it whole



Leave a Reply